Warfox
by Leolu
Summary: During a major battle with Eggman, Super Sonic uses Chaos Control to protect Tails from an unexpected barrage of missiles. As a result, Tails is sent thousands of years into the past—right in the middle of World War II. Now, without a way back to his time, Tails must use his skills to survive the war.
1. Prologue

The pitch black sky shook violently with thunder, lightning occasionally illuminating the rough underbelly of the endless storm clouds. The sound of heavy rain pelting metal wings and the roar of a powerful engine filled my ears, and the potent smell of gasoline settled deep into my gut. Concentration was a valuable resource at the moment, and I intended to preserve it lest the world be subject to crisis and malignant dominion. Eggman held six of the chaos emeralds, and the seventh was set in front of me, shining a brilliant red in the center of my control dash. A gargantuan airship sporting the deep color of blood was stationed above the channel that ran between the isles and the mainland. Eggman had been camping in the ruins of the postancient city of Londol, but he had finally shown his face now that he was certain he would claim victory.

"You ready for this, Tails?" I glanced into the rearview mirror to find the determined face of Sonic.

"Of course." I checked for the fourth time that all my lights were off—a sneak attack would be otherwise impossible. I removed the emerald from its compartment and passed it back to him. "Remember the plan?"

"Yeah, sneak around. No excitement," he grumbled.

"Until you're spotted, then go all out." He gave a satisfied hum. "We're getting close, now. I'm gonna fly in close. Ready?"

"You bet!" The airship was drawing nearer. Before long, I was flying circles above it. I finally dropped low to its deck and opened the blast shield. The rain began to soak my fur and sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't long before Sonic was out of the cockpit, though, so I shut it back and turned the heat up to thirty. Now I just had to wait.

x

Several minutes passed in silence before, without warning, a golden figure burst through the deck of the ship, and I knew Sonic had succeeded. Cannon fire appeared from every possible surface of the ship, all directed towards him. That was my queue to take action. I dove in to take turret after turret. All was going well until a barrage of missiles appeared somewhere from the ship's starboard. They moved far too quickly for me to shoot down or evade for long, and there were too many for even Super Sonic to defend me from. He apparently shared my sentiments about the situation, but there was one thing he knew he could do about it—a last resort reserved for emergencies that I'd forgotten all about. From across the ship came Sonic's booming voice.

"Chaos Control!"

A blinding light engulfed my view, and the maelstrom of missiles disappeared in front of me. As did the rest of the world that once existed outside of my plane.

x

In front of me was a bright, blue sky and a soft summer sun. No storm, no aerial warship, no missiles, no Sonic. He had sent me through time. I hadn't traveled through space, though; I was still flying above the channel, and both the island and mainland were in sight. My shock wore off rather quickly, and I decided to fly to the island. I had one question that took precedence over any other: when was I?

As I approached the land, I noticed several humans frolicking and relaxing on the otherwise desolate beach. Not long after I crossed the border between land and sea, however, my radio began to beep, indicating a transmission. Happy to learn that I was in either a late postancient or modern time, I accepted the message.

"Sie betreten den Britischen luftraum. Kehre um oder lande sofort!"

I flinched at the violent sound of the words. I had never heard the language before, so I confirmed that this was late postancient. Or far in the future...

"Stai sconfinando nello spazio aereo britannico. Torna indietro o atterra immediatamente," the voice continued.

This language was more familiar to me, but not quite recognizable. Maybe French? I wasn't sure. More likely than not, this was another language that didn't survive to modern times.

「おまえは英の空域に不法侵入しています。すぐに戻るか着陸していますよ！」

I recognized this as Japanese. I was about to request English in my limited Japanese vocabulary, but I realized that I should simply ask in English if they knew it.

"Français? русский?"

I pressed the button to reply.

"Do you speak English?"

"Oh, you're American! You're trespassing on British airspace. Turn back or land immediately!"

"I'm what?"

"Trespassing!"

"American, I mean."

"Turn back or land, or we'll be forced to shoot you down!"

"Right, right! Is there an airport nearby?"

"We'll have military planes escort you to a remote landing strip. Begin flying circles until they arrive."

"Got it." I did as he instructed. "Okay... So, what do you mean by "American?""

"From America. I don't know of any other English speaking country that uses an American accent. Are you not American?"

"I'm from the United Federation. Westside Island."

"Unless that's some obscure region of another country, there's no such place as the United Federation."

"Right... I have some explaining to do... Will I see you in person?"

"I'm just an air traffic controller, you'll be explaining to a Customs representative."

The aforementioned airplanes appeared over the horizon.

"They're here," I told him. "By the way, what's the date?"

"July 6, 1940."

The planes drew near and formed a triangle around me; one in front and two behind. They led me west.

\- - - - - -

So? What do you think? I've always wanted to do something with Tails's dogfighting skills, so here we are. If you recognize the date, that's exactly what's gonna happen in a few days. In case you're wondering about this new author's note format, I'm now publishing through the app instead of Google Docs. The app doesn't support the line break, so I'm using some dashes and centering it. Anyways, I've got four stories in progress now, so I'll need to see which one is more popular. If you want to vote, I'll have a poll on my profile.

See you next chapter!


	2. Battle of Britain

Just for reference, Mach one is 343 meters per second.

The Decaying Author and fractalshadow: Thanks! I've got high hopes for this one.

Guest 1: Thank you! I'm always glad to hear my stories are entertaining! I'm glad you like my writing style, too!

Guest 2: I'm not sure where to go with Prower Demonopoly. If you have any ideas, I'd much appreciate to hear them. If not, then maybe by the time I finish/get stuck on all the other ones, I'll be a better writer with better ideas and be able to continue it again.

Yori Micah: As you wish: here we go!

\- - - - - -

The planes only let up on me once I began my descent to land. The landing strip was in terrible condition, making for a rough landing. As I came to a stop, another transmission signaled in on my radio. This time, a different voice came through.

"Stay in your plane until further instructed!" The abrupt order caught me a bit off guard, but I obeyed. In less than a minute, nine human soldiers clad in solid olive green uniforms were surrounding the plane with rifles in hand.

"Exit," ordered yet another voice from outside. I flipped a blue switch on the control panel to open the blast shield. Each of their mouths fell agape as I emerged from the cockpit. Unsteady barrels were leveled towards me.

"Step... Step out, now," said the same man with fading authority. I slowly climbed over the side and dropped to the ground with my hands still up. "Detain... him..."

Nothing happened for a moment.

"You two!" He gestured to a pair of men somewhere behind me. "Detain him!"

Hurried footsteps approached from behind, then two sets of hands forced my own behind my back.

"Search him. The rest of you search the plane." Despite the warning, a surprised noise escaped my throat as I was lifted up and my gloves, socks, and shoes were removed.

"He's clear," said one of the men behind me as he put my clothing back on. After a few moments, the men searching my plane climbed out, one of them carrying my first aid pack to the apparent leader.

"There was only first aid. Not even a parachute."

"Put it back, then." The leader gave me a scrutinizing look and walked to the side of my plane. "Permission to use your radio?"

"Y-yes, sir," I answered, taken aback. He climbed the fuselage with no further acknowledgement.

"How do you work this? And where's the dial?" he asked without hesitation.

"Er... The red button on the top left turns it on..." I heard the click of the power button pressing, and he jumped with a short laugh.

"A screen! How the Hell's it so detailed? And colored! I still don't see how you turn the dial."

"Uh... touch it and spin it like you would a regular dial."

No response, only another laugh. After a few moments, he spoke, but not to me.

"This is Cadet Bowings reporting on the intruding plane. We've landed the perpetrator, but we... I need an appointment with Chief of General Staff Dill."

"Chief Dill? What could you possibly need an appointment with him for?" The voice was filled with incredulity.

"I... I can't exactly explain it, but I swear on his majesty's name that it is worth the Chief's time. This also demands high priority, if at all possible."

"Very well," he relented. "I'll send an envoy to your location. And I'll call the chief immediately."

"Thank you."

x

Thirty minutes' time saw me being carried into the back of a large, black truck with three soldiers, and another thirty minutes saw us pass a large city and enter a military base. Once there, several men conversed outside of the truck before its doors were opened. I was presented to Cadet Bowings, two of his men, and one unfamiliar man. He was an older man with a squared, authoritative face and was wearing a heavily decorated uniform. His squinted eyes widened at my sight.

"This wasn't covered by any protocol, sir, so I found it appropriate to contact you." Instead of responding to the Cadet, the man continued to scrutinize my every feature.

"Bring it inside," he eventually barked. I didn't take much offense to it, considering the circumstances. The man turned and began to walk as I was carried to the ground.

"Oh, he can speak, sir," Bowings commented. The man stopped and faced us again.

"Speak, then," he ordered. "Tell me how old you are."

"Er... Ten, sir." He scoffed.

"Sure. Bring him in, now. I'm questioning him _right_ now." He turned again, and I was walked forward to follow him. We entered a large building with a long hallway. We marched to near the end of the corridor before I was ushered into an empty room with several folding chairs stacked against a wall. The door was closed behind me; it was just me and him in the room.

"I'm Chief Dill," he stated. "Do you have a name?"

"Tails... sir..."

"Well, have a seat, Tails. I've got some questions." I sat, and I decided to tell the entire truth.

x

I had counted sixty-two questions so far, and not one answer did he seem to believe yet.

"Now," Dill said, "let me ask you another question: have you heard of eugenics?"

"Eugenics? I have," I answered with a nod. Sixty-three.

"Are you a German eugenics project?"

"A... No, sir!" Sixty-four.

"Who are your parents, then?" My heart sank.

"I... don't know. I was raised by my friend, Sonic." Sixty-five.

"Sonic who?"

"I don't know his real name. He never said, and I never asked." Sixty-six.

"Hm. And he taught you to fly a plane?"

"Sort of. I figured out everything he couldn't teach me, though." Sixty-seven.

"Can you fight in a plane?"

"Yes, sir." Sixty-eight.

"How well?"

"Er... I can take down a battleship's defenses, but I don't know how that compares to other pilots..." He scoffed. Sixty-nine.

"I don't believe most of what you've told me so far, but you'll be fighting in the next battle."

"Battle? Is there a war going on?"

"What do you mean 'Is there a war going on?' There's been a war going on since Hitler invaded Poland! France fell to the blitzkrieg, for heaven's sake!"

"Oh..."

"In any case, you'll be kept at a camp in Berkshire until the next battle, which could be any day now. And don't think about deserting; any and all planes leaving a battle will be shot down by both sides. Common rule. Understand?"

"Yes, sir..." Seventy.

x

I spent four days in a high security camp. The small room I was given was rather nice, but I was never allowed outside on my own, of course. I was only ever seen by high ranking officers and scientists. Each one wore the same expression as the last the first time they saw me. On the first day, scientists took samples of everything they possibly could without harming me. On the second day, I was taken to a medical facility. They took a full body x-ray of me before sending me back. On the third and fourth days, I was only observed for a few hours. The whole ordeal was quite uncomfortable, but I didn't complain.

On the fifth day, July 10, I was awakened very early by one of the few officers who had seen me at some point.

"Get up! You're plane's outside. If you're as good of a fighter pilot as the Chief says you claim to be, then get your tails out there! The Luftwaffe is over the channel right now, and they're headed straight for London!" I was still half dazed when he grabbed me by the shoulders and stood me up, giving me a push towards the door. "There's eight million people in that city, ya hear? Now get a move on!"

I nodded and ran outside. Sure enough, another officer was beaconing at me from a nearby runway, and my plane was right behind him. I spun my tails for an extra burst of speed and jumped right over him, landing in the cockpit. Needless to say, he was speechless. I shut the blast shield before he could regain his thoughts and started the plane. I wasn't sure which side of the war was right, but eight million lives were too many to waste time deciding over. I took to the sky and made east.

x

On my way east, I passed a fleet of planes; each was labeled "_Royal Air Force_." I couldn't bother waiting for them though; they were all moving at subsonic speed, so I sped past them. The channel was approaching quickly, as was a dark line of planes on the horizon: the Luftwaffe, I assumed. I approached their ranks at Mach six and shot down three of them as I passed. I decelerated as much as possible as I turned a huge loop in the sky. Only then were more of them breaking away to give chase. There were three planes that were ahead of the rest of them. I made a large leftwards twirl and ran my fire through two of them. I ignored the third and fired a grapeshot at the posterior group that was giving chase. Six out of eleven were hit, and I picked off four more before abandoning them. I reaccelerated to Mach three and ran right along their ranks, raining fire down on them along the way.

I couldn't count how many I had hit along the way at that speed, but every plane was in a frenzy by the time I was done. I pulled upwards, decelerated, and flipped my nose down towards the ocean. Only then did I notice that there were bombers. I didn't have time to count them; there were several planes chasing after me. I went into a nosedive and ran through four of them as I pulled up. I made a beeline towards the nearest bomber at a safe speed of Mach one and shot it down with ease. It exploded seconds after I passed it, taking down three planes near it.

Bullets were tapping lightly against the tail of the plane, almost like rain falling on the wings. I fired my rear guns and watched five planes fall in my rearview mirror. I counted three more bombers. I used the same method to take down a second one, but ran out of bullets midway through. It exploded nonetheless, and I didn't hesitate to switch to energy bullets. I would have to be more conservative with these, lest I completely ran out of power.

I weaved through and around the remaining planes, only shooting at the scarce few that I had to. I swiveled through and around them as I made my way towards the next bomber. Fewer shots than letters spelled death for the third bomber. I pulled to the sky and looped around to face the fourth and final one. Many of the remaining planes were flocking around this one, desperate to protect it. In the fastest evasive maneuvers I'd ever performed, I rocketed through the swarm at Mach four and laid fire on the final threat. The bomber and about ten planes around and below it were swallowed in the fire, marking the end of my role in this battle.

\- - - - - -

Why the heck does this app have a character limit? I had a whole 'nother paragraph to write but I gu


	3. A Weighty Decision

Hey, this is the first chapter I've ever started totally rewriting halfway through! I hope it was worth the wait for making it better, though.

Yori Micah and Remnants of Fantasy: Yeah, that's what I was doing before I started Warfox, but I'm using docs again. Thanks for that, though!

LordVoltra: Thank you, sir! I hope to keep it!

This chapter doesn't have any action or anything, but it's pretty important. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

* * *

I flew wide circles around the deserted battlespace in waiting for my allies' arrival. By the time the Royal Air Force was finally upon me, the Luftwaffe was nearly halfway towards the horizon. Several minutes of idle circling commensed in anticipation of replacements for the fleet's obsoleted orders. These orders finally arrived through a transmission.

"Return to base." Several seconds later, a different voice occupied my radio. "Prower, return to your camp."

That was all. Everyone broke their circle and made off towards home.

x

I landed on the same strip that I left from, and I was welcomed by the same officer who saw me off. He led me back to the shed-style building and to my room.

"The Chief said that some of the pilots made some pretty questionable claims about you, so you'll continue to be held here. You'll be getting more visits from the boys in the lab, too."

"How… How long?" He shrugged.

"It looks pretty boring in there, so…" He revealed a folded mess of paper and a few pens that were dubiously stuffed into his pocket and offered them to me. "Have fun."

I gave a confused smile as he closed and locked the door. And so, I was once again alone, stuck in that small, comfy room. I sat on the bed and looked at the gifts I had been given—smiling, for I couldn't have asked for anything better.

x

I worked late into the afternoon on something I had been putting off for a long time: an assistory AI. I was planning on adding more features to my plane than I could control by myself, so it would become necessary sooner or later. I had decided to name it CoMAI—Copiloting Multifunctional AI—and planned out its basic framework. Shortly after I had filled up five of the six papers with neural network algorithms, I heard two sets of footsteps enter the building. They crossed the hallway and stopped short of the door.

"Ready?" one of them asked in the loudest whisper I'd ever heard, and affirmation followed. The door was unlocked, and in stepped two young men clad in casual attire, each carrying a box of equipment. The second closed the door behind him, and both sat their boxes on the floor.

"Morning, Tails. We're here to play a few games with you."

"Tests, you mean?" I corrected.

"Er… Yes, but you could think of them as games."

"Games seem like a waste of time; I prefer to consider them tests," I commented, indirectly urging them to disregard my age. He raised his eyebrows, and the other pressed his lips and tilted his head. "So what's first?"

"I, uh. I noticed you were doing something on that paper, there. Mind if we take a look?"

"Ah, I thought it was a little strange that he had so much paper stuffed in his pocket…" I collected the papers and delivered them to him. A frown immediately crossed his face.

"What's this?"

"Neural network algorithms."

"What?"

"Neural network algorithms. Like… an AI." His face was brimming with doubt and confusion.

"AI? What's that mean?"

"Artificial Intelligence." For a moment, both of their faces contorted in contemplation of what that could possibly entail. He stuffed the papers back into my hands.

"First test—game—er, test! We're gonna solve some puzzles."

"An intelligence test?"

"Um, yes." The scientist turned to his partner. "You can conduct this one; I'll start setting up the next ones."

The second man nodded and knelt in front of one of the boxes. I sat across from him and sat the papers behind me as he rummaged through the container.

"Here it is," he said as he produced a large, colorful, cardstock, ring-bound packet and a stopwatch. "Each page here has some sort of puzzle you need to solve. When you know the answer, just tell me."

I nodded as he held up the stopwatch. The moment it started, I began to blow through the questions at rapid fire. Three minutes and one hundred questions later, I was finished. He took a few notes.

"You're ten, correct?" I nodded, and he made a few calculations. He suddenly became rather uncomfortable. "Let's move on."

Few words beyond instruction were spoken after this point. They then began to test my senses: field width, depth perception, and detail and color detection for sight; basic sensitivity for smell; several samples of flavors for taste; pitch and volume ranges for audio; and temperature range, pressure sensitivity, and (with my permission) pain tolerance for tact. They also tested for reaction, balance, and a multitude of other coordinative abilities. One they were done, they packed up and began to leave without revealing any of my results, or even so much as a goodbye.

"Hey, wait!" They halted at the doorway and turned. "Can I… have some more paper?"

"Uh… Next time—tomorrow, probably. I'll bring a whole stack." I nodded with a grin. He returned an uncomfortable smile, and they left, shutting and locking the door behind them. I took up my papers from where I left them on the floor and resumed my work.

x

I used up my last sheet of paper long before the day's end, so I busied myself with checking over my work until my bedtime. The next day as I was saying at the head of my bed, I was paid a morning visit, but it wasn't by the scientist from yesterday. Instead, it was the officer from yesterday morning who had been bringing my meals and whatnot. As he unlocked and opened the door, I took a glance at his name tag: Benson. He carried a large stack of paper with him.

"Morning, Tails," he greeted as he handed over the paper. "These are for you… I've got two messages. The lab boys won't be back until tomorrow, so they wanted you to have that. Second, officers from the fleet in yesterday's battle been deliberating, and your actions in yesterday's battle have been legitimized. You'll be named an Ace with fifty-five kills."

I balked at the news. He wore a wide grin.

"Also… you'll be sent on a solo mission next week. To deal some damage on Germany." That reminded me of something.

"Thanks, uh… Do you have some time?" He nodded.

"Sure. I was assigned to attend to you full time. I'm not sure why they didn't want a nurse to do the job instead, though…"

"Oh. Well," I motioned to the foot of the bed, and he sat. "I guess my first question is… what's this war that's going on called?"

"World War Two."

"World War…" The implications scared me a bit. "What's it over?"

"To Hitler? It's about establishing a worldwide empire of the 'superior race.' To us, it's about stopping the madman."

"Huh…" _Sounds like Eggman… without the race part. _"So what caused the war?"

We talked for hours, and I learned everything that I might have needed to know about recent events. I learned of the situation that Germany had been forced into due to the first World War and of Hitler's violent reaction. I learned of the oppressive nature of the fascist regimes and the demagoguery used to create them. By the end of the conversation, I had decided that although the Axis was quite evil, the Allies were only slightly less so. He had boasted of plenty of the Allies' feats of warpower that, to me, constituted as war crimes. That very moment, I decided to play a fully unbiased defensive role in the war. And that meant turning down the solo mission that was coming next week. Perhaps.

x

I spent the following week continuing my work on CoMAI, of course, and upgrade designs for my plane. When the time came for the mission, I accepted (not that I was given a choice) and given a personal sendoff by the Chief himself. For the last time.

* * *

Sorry that took so long. Ya know, exam week and all. Again, I hope this was worth the wait!


	4. Inhumanity

MariaRose13: Thank you! I do plan on showing what Sonic has to do about this mess. Happy writing to you, too!

Sorry it's been so long—I'm only beginning to write this three weeks after the last chapter… Summer assignments have been pretty tedious this year.

Sorry to those who are more a Chaos Regeneration fan, but Warfox is a lot more popular right now. I'll still be working on it, but not quite as quickly.

One last thought: I might have hinted at this before, but FFN isn't the first website I've written on, and Sonic isn't the first fandom I've written for. What would you think of me rewriting (since my writing has improved since then) and transferring my stories to a separate FFN account? It'll be called The_Other_Leolu or something like that, but I'll update you when it's created. Perhaps someone has a suggestion for its name? If so, PM me or something. I hope this idea appeals to you all, though.

Enjoy!

* * *

"This is it, Ace. Deliver a hard hit to Berlin, and you might just turn the tide of the war," said Chief Dill. I nodded and climbed into the Tornado's cockpit. "One more thing before you leave. As you may have heard, the Nazis took Paris a few days ago. If you're able to, perhaps pay them a visit."

This was new to me. "Okay, uh… Where's Paris? And Berlin?"

"You don't know where they are? Do you have a world map?"

"Not a postanc—er, current map." He reached into his pocket and revealed a small, heavily folded piece of paper. He handed it up to me.

"Here. You can find them on that map. I've got a few of them, so don't worry about returning it." He saluted, and I mirrored the gesture with a quick thanks, then closed the blast shield. I unfolded the paper, revealing an excessively large world map. The reverse side was a map of Europe. I spotted the general direction of Berlin and folded the map back up. I started the plane and took off towards Berlin.

x

After eight minutes at Mach six, I spotted Berlin. I circled above the city, but didn't attack. I intended to keep neutral in this war and minimize damage on either side, so destroying the city wasn't on my agenda. From here I considered my options. I could go to the neutral country of Switzerland, but it was far too close to the war. Furthermore, I didn't even know what language was spoken in Switzerland. My second option was Japan. Although it was a belligerent nation, I was never told of any first world country that wasn't in the war other than the US and Switzerland. The US, however, didn't sound like a country I would want to risk flying over during wartime. Since I had a basic understanding of the conventions of Japanese and a small vocabulary to work with, I figured that I could become fluent in the language within a few months of arrival.

So it was decided: I'd make my way in Japan. In order to prevent anyone from predicting my destination, I descended to an altitude of three hundred meters and made off on a path perpendicular to the southern border of Poland. As Berlin disappeared over the horizon, I delighted in knowing that I would never be asked to attack another city again. Not by Britain, at least.

x

I spent several minutes tracing the border of Poland before deciding that I was safe from detection. I was about to turn northeast towards Japan, but a strange structure somehow caught my eye. I recorded my coordinates for future reference and dropped below the sound barrier to get a better look at it. It was what seemed to be an oddly built village: it had high walls, long buildings arranged in blocks, and patches of unbuilt dirt. As my curiosity drew me ever closer, more details came to light. People were milling around in slow, orderly lines. Suddenly, a line of smoke appeared and dissipated in the empty plot of land. I slowed to minimum speed, dropped to one hundred meters, and booted up my aerial view cameras. I focused in on the source of the smoke and found a company of uniformed men with rifles leading along a row of disheveled prisoners. I should have known what was happening, but I didn't: the excitement of my escape was still on my mind. Men, women, and children struggled against their captors as the soldiers lined their prisoners against the edge of a trench and leveled their rifles. My gut wrenched as smoke exploded from each of the guns' barrels, and the bodies fell into the trench. Only then did I notice that countless bodies were already piled up in the ditch.

The horrific scene made my head spin, and I began to lose my grip on both myself and my plane. I felt excruciatingly nauseous for the first time in my life and fumbled for the autopilot button. Once autopilot took control, I keeled over, shaking. I asked my racing mind what I could do, but to no avail. My plane had no function that could pick off specific targets on the ground without harming its surroundings. I had never had a use for any such thing. I shivered and shuddered at the thought of being unable to do anything. I had to tell the allies… I could only speak English, but I couldn't return to the UK after deserting them. None of the allies were a viable option, so who could I possibly tell?

The US, of course! They were avid seekers of liberty, as I was told, and a vicious military power. Better yet, they spoke English! I made a sharp turn west and made off at full speed.

x

My path to the US would cut right through the UK, but I didn't care anymore. I was too fast for anyone in this outdated world to stop me. Just as I passed over the German border, though, a transmission arrived.

"Did everything go well, Prower?" I balked. Did they not know I had barely stopped at Berlin before passing it? "We lost your signal just as you entered Germany."

I couldn't muster a sigh of relief, but I was glad that I still had Britain's trust. I canceled my path to the US.

"Not really," I answered. My stomach tightened again. "I found a…"

"You found what?" the voice asked after a moment.

"I didn't get to attack Berlin, but I saw something that… I need to talk to the Chief about…"

"Understood. The Chief is on his way to the London HQ, so you can meet him there."

"Got it…"

x

I landed at the headquarters in London, just as I had been instructed. The Chief was already there, waiting for me.

"That's the fastest damn attack I've ever seen!" He greeted with a laugh as I opened the blast shield. He stopped when I looked at him, though. "Are… you alright?"

I jumped to the ground, but didn't look up at him. "I, uh… I had a navigational error and ended up in Poland… When I was there, I found a…"

The memory churned my stomach. "It was some sort of camp, but… it wasn't for war prisoners. There were women and children, too, and… they were just killing them…"

I had begun to shake again, so I got a grip on myself and looked up at the Chief. He didn't seem very phased by the information. "So he's started killing them en masse, huh…"

I flinched. "What?"

"Hitler's always blamed the Jews for Germany's economic problems, but I didn't expect him to start executing them this early…" He never broke face. His lack of reaction caused something inside my to snap.

"That doesn't even _bother you_?" He stopped me short.

"Yes, that bothers me. It's infuriating, actually. But there's nothing we can do about it."

"Nothing? Why not send a fleet full of ground troops? If we have enough men, we can save them without a fight!" He shook his head.

"We can't do that in their territory. The Luftwaffe would be on our tail in minutes."

"I can take care of that! I did during last week's battle!"

"That's different. There were only a hundred planes then. In enemy airspace, there could be countless ones."

"Well… I could only take out half of them because my plane's not designed for intense dogfighting! If I could use a… a workshop or something, I could improve it!"

"That won't be necessary. You'll be doing quick raids from now on. You'll be in and out before they even know you're there." I bawled my fists and shook my head, but I had nothing left to argue. I turned and leapt into the cockpit again. He tried to stop me, but I was already closing the blast shield. He was yelling at me, but I couldn't hear him through the glass and over the muffled roaring of the engine. I took off west, towards the US again.

x-x-x

_LO50 40 GOVT = LONDON 17 6 8A_

_PRESIDENT FRANKLIN DELENO ROOSEVELT =_

_1600 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE NW, WASHINGTON, DC 20500 =_

_THE CHIEF OF GENERAL STAFF OF THE BRITISH ARMY URGENTLY INFORMS YOU THAT AN UNSCHEDULED FLIGHT MAY ENTER AMERICAN AIRSPACE VERY SOON. THE PILOT'S NAME IS MILES "TAILS" PROWER. HE IS NOT HOSTILE, BUT CAN BECOME DANGEROUS IF THREATENED. WE REQUEST THAT YOU WELCOME HIM OPENLY, BUT THAT ONLY TRUSTED HIGH RANKING OFFICIALS SEE HIM. FINALLY, WE REQUEST THAT YOU WILL ALLOW HIM TO USE AN AEROSPACE LABORATORY. THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT WILL PAY ANY EXPENSES ASSOCIATED WITH LABORATORY USAGE AND HOUSING. WE EXTEND OUR BEST WISHES TO THE UNITED STATES DURING THESE TIMES OF WAR =_

_= CHIEF OF GENERAL STAFF SIR JOHN DILL =_

* * *

In case I haven't mentioned it before, x-x-x is a PoV change.

Now, about that second account. I've already created it (TheOtherLeolu), but I'm still open to suggestions for its name. I'll begin rewriting my old stories and posting them immediately. Head on over if you're interested, and I'll see you there!


	5. This is America

Factorgetcool: oof, indeed.

By the way, I'm currently writing an original fiction story. Don't worry, though: it won't get in the way of my stories here.

I don't know if I made this clear enough in the last chapter, but finding the concentration camp turned Tails to the Allies' side for good, and that's why he went to the US instead of Japan.

With all of that out of the way, enjoy.

* * *

I held an iron grip on the yoke, still fuming from my encounter with Chief Dill. I flew fifteen kilometers above the ocean's surface, yet that was all that was in sight for just short of forty-five minutes. Very shortly after the northern shores of the United States came into view, my radio spat out noise with bits of speech peeking through.

"This… Virg… N. tion Base…" Silence followed.

"Come again?"

"This is Virginia Naval Aviation Base. You're flying an unscheduled flight into American airspace. Identify yourself," a woman's voice ordered.

"Miles," I stated. "I just need somewhere to land."

"Miles. Surname?" I hesitated.

"Prower…"

"Miles "Tails" Prower," she declared. My heart skipped a beat. "Hangar B7 of Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts is reserved for you. After you land, you are requested to remain inside your plane until Major Cavour and Captain Reeves are there to meet you. And welcome to the USA!"

"Er… Thanks, but, uh… How do you know my… N-nevermind that. Where's Boston?" She gave me the direction and distance to the city, so I thanked her and flew on my way.

x

After flying for a while, a large coastal city appeared from over the horizon, which I presumed to be Boston. The town didn't host any distinct features—it was just like any other big city. I flew around the city until I located a structure that resembled an airport, and I landed on strip B after confirming that I was at the right one. I pulled into strip B's seventh hangar, and the door closed behind me.

Two uniformed men then appeared from a doorway in the front of the hangar. The Major and Captain, I assumed. I took this as my queue to reveal myself. As I opened the blast shield and jumped to the ground, however, one of the men wavered a bit, and the other couldn't quite mask his expression. A long, awkward silence ensued…

"Er… Good afternoon…" I finally greeted. The men recomposed themselves, but never shed their uneasiness.

"Good afternoon. I'm Captain Reeves," one of them returned. His voice sounded rather on edge.

"Major Cavour," said the other with a similar tone.

"Miles Prower. Ace Pilot," I introduced. Their faces revealed a hint of delight and surprise. "And… I'm not sure what I'm doing here. Do either of you know?"

"Er, we do not, sorry," Major Cavour answered. "President Roosevelt ordered that we bring you to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in secret. An aerospace laboratory is currently being approved for your use. That's all we were told."

I paused for a moment to think. The only explanation for this was that Chief Dill had quickly reconsidered my request and commissioned the US government to carry it out. Why had he reconsidered so quickly, though? Was I such a valuable asset that he would relent in order to have me back? That was obviously the case. I wondered whether I could trust this gesture and return to London in the future.

"I see. Let's hurry, then." They nodded and led me to a door that was on the same wall I entered through, and out into the cool afternoon sun. The Major locked the door behind me and pocketed the key. We crossed the runway and made our way to a large, dark green vehicle with a matching cover draped over the back of it. The captain gestured for me to get in the back, and I did. They started the truck and began to drive.

x

About half an hour passed before the vehicle parked. After a few minutes, the Major opened the back of the truck and set a large box in front of me. I didn't need an explanation. I got in the box and waited for him to close it. He did not, though. He only wore a confused stare. I stared back.

"Aren't you… gonna smuggle me in? So I'm not seen?"

"No, I was gonna pack those tools up to deliver to the lab. Captain Reeves has already requested that everyone stay out of the hallway until further notice."

"Oh." I got out of the box and helped him pack up a few sets of tools that had been sitting in the back with me. He led me inside the building, set the box down at the entrance, and I followed him until we ran into Captain Reeves.

"They've signed it," he said to the Major. Cavour nodded.

"Signed what?" I asked.

"An oath of confidentiality. They've sworn secrecy to your existence."

"Who did?" I persisted.

"Your crew. A few students who worked in this building have agreed to assist you. Also, your plane will be here in about an hour. Until then, you can get acquainted with your crew. They're right in here," the Captain said, pointing to a nearby doorway. I was going to argue that I didn't need any help, but I didn't want to antagonize. "Well follow you inside for a few minutes… in case anyone reacts violently."

"No need. I have plenty of fighting experience," I assured. He clearly didn't believe me, but he didn't say so.

"Alright, but we're responsible for your safety. We need to accompany you inside until we're sure that no one will become violent." I accepted his reasoning and entered through the door with the officers behind me.

No one noticed us; all five people who were inside were hard at work preparing the basketball court sized room. They were laying out tools, papers, and whatnot onto an array of tables that surrounded a central working space. Strange, rustic parts were lying at the edges of the room.

I wondered how I could present myself without causing panic. I thought of a few ways to reach that end. My first thought was to announce my presence before anyone discovered me on their own. Secondly, I needed to talk. A lot. In my few experiences of meeting new people, me talking seemed to calm them significantly. Thirdly, I prayed that these were calm and rational people. I then prepared a brief speech in my head and stepped forward.

"Hey, there, everyone! My name is Tails, and I'm here to add some upgrades to my plane," I said in a cheerful tone. The four men and one woman stopped what they were doing and stared in shock when they saw me. I heard something hit the ground, but I continued. "My plane will be here in about an hour, so I want to get to know everyone before then."

No one responded. One man took a few steps back, and another put his hand on his forehead.

"I swear I don't do drugs anymore," a third man repeatedly mumbled to himself. The remaining man and the woman simply kept staring. Maybe speaking wasn't quite human enough to quell their fear. Perhaps I should show some emotion! I put on a rather hurt face and lowered my ears and tails, a dangerously deceptive tactic that I liked to only use when necessary.

"Did… Did I say something wrong?" I asked sheepishly. The woman stood up straight and waved her hands a bit.

"N-no, no! My name's Victoria," she said. I smiled and raised my tails and ears. I realized that I would have to continue acting like a child after an act like that, but I felt like I could pull it off. After a few cutting glances from Victoria, the others followed suit. They introduced themselves as Michael, Fred, Jordan, and Jared. Everyone was still unnerved, but they began to hide it more and more. Once their tensions seemed to be satisfactorily relieved, the officers left. No one dared to ask questions, and I didn't dare to reveal about myself, so we ran out of things to talk about in only ten minutes. There wasn't much work left to do, either. After everything, we were left with thirty minutes to spare. We spent this time discussing everything we would be doing with my plane. I was well aware that I would have to teach them to work with the more advanced technology used in my plane, so I had a question to ask to determine how hard this would be.

"Do computers exist yet?" I asked. I was given several strange looks.

"Well, yes, but those are only for major engineering companies," Jared answered.

"What do they do?"

"They… make complex calculations instantly."

"I see… In that case, my plane uses technology that you've never seen—that this world's never seen—before." I only received skeptical looks. "So, are you up to learning?"

They nodded slowly. At this time, the sound of several approaching vehicles met my ears. I seemed to be the first to hear it, so I waited until they were in parking lot proximity of the building. The others still seemed to be unaware.

"Well, the plane's here," I announced. "I think so, at least. I'll go hide in the bathroom, now."

And hide in the bathroom I did. Instead of listening to what was happening outside, though, I thought about everything that had transpired in the past hour. Everything was beginning to look down, but it was all suddenly fixed. All thanks to Chief Dill. I smiled. I then remembered that I had left all of my plans for CoMAI and plane additions in London. I ground my wrist into my forehead for that stupid mistake, but I knew that I remembered most of what I wrote. I dreaded wasting so much time rewriting all of that, but it had to be done. Once the sound outside of the bathroom died down, I cracked the door open and peeked out. There, in the middle of the room, sat my beautiful plane. No one I didn't recognize was there, so I stepped out, ready to conduct all proceedings for all of the foreseeable future.

* * *

Hey, If you ever think I'm taking too long to post, feel free to give me a nudge in the PM's, I'll probably be procrastinating and just need a good push. For right now, though, I've planned a pentalogy that will be posted to TheOtherLeolu. So I might be pretty slow in the future. Also, band camp and school are coming up, so even more delays. Fun, right? Well, if you're into Pokémon, then maybe check out Manifest Destiny whenever it's posted.

Reviews still appreciated, all that stuff. See you next chapter!


	6. Granted Wish

The Chuckinater and Sy: Thank you! I'm always glad to hear that!

Yori Micah: Yes, I do try my best in that regard!

Captain Bones: That's right! Thank you for your support; I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

Now, then. Hello, all! It's been quite a while, hasn't it? Well, that's because I spent exactly two months writing chapter one of The Tempian Experiment: Manifest Destiny. If you think you might be interested, check it out at TheOtherLeolu! But, at last, here's the Warfox you've been waiting for!

* * *

The insufficiency of technology in this time period posed quite a problem; computers were just big calculators, and airplanes were almost purely mechanical. The changes I wanted to make to my plane was not mechanical, but electronic. If the crew I was given was to be of any help, they would need to learn at least the basics of computer science… but how could I teach someone with no concept of a modern computer such a thing?

In a reluctant attempt to accomplish this, I took my laptop from under the pilot's seat of the plane and powered it on. When the screen lit up, no one said a word: they only stared.

"Here's the basics of computers. You give the computer an input," I said, gesturing to the keyboard, "and it'll produce an output that's derived from the input. And computers don't infer: they _strictly_ follow the input. Questions so far?"

There was silence for a moment, but a question did arise. "Why… _How's_ it so small?"

"Uh… You know… Technology get more compact, more efficient over time."

Another person spoke, sounding less reluctant than the other. "What kind of stuff does it do?"

"Well, an output can be either information or action. There are devices that can receive information from a computer and perform whatever mechanical action it's told."

"How does all this work? On the inside, I mean," someone else asked.

"Not important. I'm about to start teaching you all what you need to know." What _did _they need to know? The programming language? No. There was only one computer, and I'd be using it. Besides, that'd take months! What would they even be helping me with? I had mostly planned out everything I wanted to do, so the crew I was given was pretty useless. Just then, as if reading my mind, Victoria raised a question.

"What _are _we doing? Are we replacing parts? Adding something?" I rubbed my chin, then decided to tell the truth.

"I don't know. The only mechanical change I want is to add-" I suddenly realized just how many obstacles I faced in this endeavour. Many of the parts I needed were electronic and probably didn't exist, and I couldn't just _make_ them in a timely fashion. Did I just hit a dead end? I sighed. "Give me a minute… I need to rethink some things…"

So what am I here for? I wanted to make changes to my plane in order to… be able to pick off targets without harming its surroundings, right? That's what I needed when I first found that death camp. And then I told Chief Dill. And he said there was nothing that could be done. And then… Oh, yeah! I offered to defend a flight into German territory, but needed to advance my plane's dogfighting capabilities; I had totally forgotten that on the way here!

"Got it!" I shut the computer and faced everyone. "We're gonna make some adjustments—and they're all mechanical!"

x

The next week was much more simple—and possible—than I initially feared. Like I said, there was no electronic work to be done: we only widened the wings and the fuselage a bit to improve its aerobatics and increase its ammunition capacity. This would sacrifice a little speed, but I had plenty of that.

That being said, the job was completed. And before I could even call everyone by name, our time was over. Formalities were said, but no one seemed genuinely saddened by my leaving. That was the way I preferred partings to be.

x

I took a test flight over the east coast of the US. It flew differently than before, of course, but there were no problems with it. I did several flips and found them to be much easier to perform. All in all, everything went right. That was my queue to head back to Britain.

x

As I entered British skies, I was met with a familiar reception: I was asked to identify myself, I did, and I was welcomed. I landed at my temporary home base, where I was greeted by Benson, my "caretaker." He told me that the chief was elsewhere, as he was not anticipating my arrival. I dismissed this concern and headed straight to my room. Inside, I found the AI notes I'd left behind and, with a sigh of relief, stored them in the plane for safekeeping.

_What to do now? _I asked myself. If the cord wanted to meet with me, then it would be a day or two until then. Perhaps there was a general nearby who would have a message for me, or something. But _was_ there a general nearby? Regardless, _someone _had to be running the place. I decided to finally take the time to wander about the place. The camp hosted several shed-like buildings and watchtowers, and the area was surrounded by a fence several meters tall. It was obviously some sort of prison… at some point. The barren, decrepit buildings, unoccupied cells, and empty watchtowers told me that the place was abandoned.

After a bit more exploration, I found Benson lounging in some sort of break room. He wasn't the only other person here, was he? He smiled when he noticed me, but a long beep sounded from another room before he could say anything. He stepped out to check on out, and reemerged moments later with a short, stiff piece of paper in hand.

"Message for you, from Chief Dill," he said. "Um… I'm very glad to hear of your return. After careful consideration, I've decided to accept your request. In order to assemble a small fleet of transport planes, as you suggested, we need permission from the Marshall of the Royal Air Force, Charles Portal. Before that, he wishes to meet with you, so please report to the London military headquarters as soon as possible. Best regards, Chief of General Staff John Dill."

x

Less than fifteen minutes later, I was landing at the aforementioned location: the place I first met Dill, I recalled. Just as had happened several times before, officers met me in the hangar and escorted me away. They were probably two of the several who had met me before; they were totally calm, but a bit unnerved. They led me someplace far into the building and left when we reached a particular door. Forgetting to knock, I entered and found two men sitting at a table, apparently arguing.

"-and as I mentioned last Monday, chemical warfare is _entirely_ justified wh- Oh, Power! Afternoon," Chief Dill greeted.

"Afternoon," I returned. He gestured to me.

"This is Ace Miles Prower. Prower, this is Marshall of the Royal Air Force Charles Portal."

"Nice to meet you," said Portal. He didn't seem at all phased by my presence, only intrigued. Perhaps Dill had told him about me beforehand.

"Nice to meet you." Dill tacitly offered for me to sit with a gesture; I did.

"Let's get started," said Portal, grinning widely. "Where are you from?"

I glanced at Dill. 'Truth,' he mouthed. I nodded. "I'm from the future. I'm not sure how far, but it's at least two thousand years."

Portal laughed. "So Einstark's time-physics stuff is true, eh? I guess I'll believe you—I don't have a better idea of where you're from!"

And so began his lighthearted interrogation of my life and air experience. Dill left the room shortly into it, finding himself no longer needed. After fifteen short minutes, he ran out of things to ask, so he finally ceded what I was after.

"Alright… As you probably know, the Chief wants to put you in charge of an aerial invasion. I'm not a fan of the idea, but I'll give you one squadron—twelve planes—to work with. How's that sound?" I gave him my widest smile, and he took that as my answer. "Good. Tell Dill they'll be ready by the end of today."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, sir! Thank you!"

x

By the end of the day, there were indeed twelve fully crewed and stocked transport planes and one hundred twenty men on standby for me. We would set out tomorrow.

* * *

I know there wasn't any action this chapter, but there will be plenty in either the next or the one after. I'll be working on chapter two of Manifest Destiny now, and hopefully it won't take two months to write. See you then!


	7. Guns and Parachutes

Yori Micah: Yeah, Warfox is a little more popular, but I get burnt out pretty easily. For the sake of quality, it's best I alternate.

s3731997: Thanks! You bet I'll be introducing more pilots: I've already got a few in mind.

Captain Bones: I'm glad to hear it! I'm really enjoying writing this, too.

1230 flight: Thank you for all the support; I'll be sure to consider your suggestions, and I'll definitely give Resistance a read.

Syler: Yeah, the UK tends to be pretty miserly with its exclamation points. Jokes aside, whatever it was you meant to say, Tails definitely wouldn't be considered a random person in this context, being a bipedal, talking fox and whatnot. He's proven himself to be a valuable asset to the General Chief, and there are very few people above him to tell him otherwise. But it's not just that easy: some ethical concerns will pop up very soon. Thanks for the concern, though.

Yes, I'm alive. It's been too long since the last chapter, and I apologize for that—Junior year is a very busy time. But I hope you enjoy this overdue chapter!

* * *

I had no position in the British military—or any military, for that matter—yet here I was leading one hundred twenty soldiers and forty-eight aircrew personnel through enemy skies. Surely strings had been pulled and corners cut to make this happen, but such a minor infringement was incomparable to the atrocities we were fighting. On the eastern side of the Nazi's stolen land, near the southern border Poland, systematic executions continued to take place.

But what could I do with what I had? I knew two things about the camp: there was a landable dirt road leading to it from the north, and there was no roof, leaving the top fully exposed... And the men I was gifted were well trained paratroopers armed with a rifle, a pistol, and a grenade or two… I chuckled and cooked up a simple, yet hopefully effective plan. We set eastward immediately.

At the subsonic speed we were limited to, the flight—which would take twelve minutes for me alone—would take us around two hours. I took only a fraction of that time to communicate my plan with the flight. Around forty minutes into the flight, as we crossed the border between the Netherlands and Germany, my radar began to chime at a moderate pace, indicating flying objects on the horizon. It was measly twenty-one planes of the Luftwaffe approaching from about thirty degrees to our left.

"Stay on course," I ordered the flight over the radio—it felt strange to tell people what to do, as I only ever gave commands to machines and AIs... I set the thought aside and accelerated to maximum speed towards the belligerent force. Two of them fell to my fire as I pierced their line. I expected to find them panickedly swarming about when I turned around, but they remained in orderly, coordinated groups, carrying on towards their target: not me, but the rest of my flight.

They learn fast—I'll give them that—but this was a suicide mission they were conducting. They might have had a chance with fifty or so planes, but not twenty-one. I picked them off one or two at a time from behind, taking care to waste no bullets this time. Even as their numbers dwindled, they held their resolve. It was only when three of them remained that they began to lose their nerve. Two of them slowed down and turned around to fight back, while the third tried to escape. I gave none of them the opportunity.

With my job done, I rejoined the flight. In the remaining time to our destination, we passed over fields, small forests, and an occasional roadway. Despite the much greater concerns at hand, I couldn't help but muse about how serene this landscape seemed, or about how much Sonic would enjoy it. But the fact remained that just over the horizon, evil—rivaling even that of Dr. Eggman—was raging unabated, and we were coming to crush it.

My mind's eye squeezed my gut as the camp peeked over the horizon. The perimeter was fortified by a defensive, yet minimally covered brick wall. As we drew nearer, I jammed my thumb into the com button. "Flights one through ten, land now."

As planned, those ten planes landed to the north of the camp, as close as possible, but didn't deploy. Inside the camp, I could see soldiers running about the place, very few of them having been prepared to defend. "Flights one through ten, go. Get to the wall."

All ten flights deployed at once. Several delayed shots were fired from atop the walls, but none made their mark before the hundred men reached safety along the wall. Taking a somewhat awkward stance, they pointed their rifles directly up the wall, threatening to punish any who dared to peek over the wall and aim at them. The enemies in the camp quickly joined their friends along the wall. Several of them, though, stood guard inside of the camp to meet our certain intrusion. "Flights eleven and twelve, hold off for a little longer."

I spared a glance to my men on the ground. They were fine: they were still too close to the wall for the enemy to safely fire at. Having reassured, I prepared for a rather precise maneuver. After surveying the camp to ensure that only enemies—and no prisoners—remained in sight, I broke to my minimum speed and laid careful, sparing fire inside the walls.

"Flights one through ten, I'm taking their attention off of you. On my word, storm the gate. Flights eleven and twelve, get ready to jump!" I ceased fire on the ground and climbed back to a safe altitude. "Flights one through ten, the paratroopers are about to jump. I want flights one through four to take over the wall: there's an entrance right next to the gate. Flights five and six, cover their backs until they're finished. Go now. Flights seven through ten, follow them in and take over any buildings you can reach. If you have any prisoners, take them to the wall. Go! Flights eleven and twelve, jump now!" The first forty men pressed through the gate and up the wall with twenty more men covering from behind. The second forty men split into their separate flights and broke into the nearest buildings. The wall was taken with relative ease, and flights five and six were filing into the safety of the wall just as the paratroopers opened fire. Each and every Nazi without shelter dropped dead. "Flights eleven and twelve, when you land, join flights seven through ten in taking the nearest buildings. Flights one through six, spread out and cover the entire wall… and shoot on sight."

Twenty paratroopers landed. Eighteen of them regrouped. I ground my teeth. "Keep at it! That's almost half of the camp cleared!" Men continued to funnel in and out of buildings, escorting prisoners to their detainment atop the wall. Each small victory seemed to come sooner than the last. Soon enough, German soldiers crept from the relative safety of their shelter of their own accord with open hands pinned in the air. A surrender. There were several dozens of them in all, perhaps fifty or so. Again I spotted the bodies of two paratroopers, partially covered by their parachutes.

"It's over, now... How many casualties were there?" I asked. One after the other, each squadron answered.

"Flight one reporting: Two dead, three wounded."

"Flight two reporting: two wounded."

"Flight three reporting: two wounded."

"Flight four reporting: one wounded."

"Flight five reporting: no casualties."

"Flight six reporting: one dead."

"Flight seven reporting: one wounded."

"Flight eight reporting: two wounded."

"Flight nine reporting: one dead, one wounded."

"Flight ten reporting: no casualties."

"Flight eleven reporting: one dead."

"…"

"Wir haben neun Ihrer Soldaten. Wenn einer von Ihnen Deutsch spricht, möchte ich einen Gefangenenaustausch aushandeln." My heart seized for a moment, then pounded out its next few dizzying beats. Before my lightheadedness had time to subside, I slammed the com button with an open palm.

"Did anyone get that!" I demanded. There was less than a moment's delay to the response.

"Flight four, carrier copilot reporting: they have nine of our soldiers and, uh… want to negotiate a… an exchange. A _prisoner_ exchange."

Of course. A prisoner exchange. My nerves settled a bit, and I loosened my grip on the yoke.

"I see. Tell them we'll exchange nine prisoners each, then…" A fair exchange… but… did I have the authority to make that decision? I would assume so.

Flight four's copilot cleared his throat. "Für unsere neun Soldaten… werden wir neun von… Ihnen frei… freigeben," he put forth with faux confidence. Hopefully it was justified.

"Alle von ihnen," he returned tersely. Yes? No? I awaited the translation, only half confident.

"All of them." I groaned. We reached a stalemate on turn two; I obviously couldn't hand over a small army.

"Tell him… um…"

"Treten Sie zurück, Soldat. Ich schätze Ihre Bemühungen, aber wir haben diesen Kampf verloren," came a different, more commanding voice that somehow made its way onto our radio channel.

"Uh… Step back-" the translator piped futilely.

"Aber… Ich bin sicher, dass ich es schaffen kann. Sicher sind sie bereit für neun Geiseln zu verhandeln!" rebutted the original voice.

"Treten Sie zurück!" asserted the other again. "Sie haben neun Geiseln, sie haben fünfundsechzig."

The former submitted. "Jawohl. Darf ich wenigstens über unsere Behandlung verhandeln?"

"Nein. Es besteht keine Notwendigkeit, das Umstände zu verschärfen."

"Jawohl." A moment passed in silence.

"Did you, uh… get any of that?" I asked.

"Sorry, I got lost."

"Ask him what's going on, then."

"Right… Um… Was ist los?"

There was no reply. Instead, a final five German soldiers emerged from a building on the far end of the camp, followed by nine British. Unparalleled joy flooded me from head to tailtips: it was finally over—for real this time.

"Welcome back, flight twelve…" I didn't have to ask about casualties. There was one dead, and he was lying on the ground not too far away. In total, that was six dead, twelve wounded.

"Flights one through eight, care for any wounded soldiers. Flights nine through twelve, search the camp for their prisoners," I ordered.

And now, we were only to see how many lives were saved for the six we lost.

* * *

By the way, this isn't Auschwitz they attacked—that would take way more than a hundred twenty men.

I really hope you enjoyed! See you next chapter!


End file.
